Because He Told Me To
by Ivory Feather
Summary: A young human girl finds out first hand what it feels like to be dancing on puppet strings of her own accord. [spoilers; if not now, then later!]
1. Prologue - Eyre

My name is Eyre.  
  
I am a fourteen year old girl.  
  
I could die today  
  
or tomorrow  
  
or sometime next week.  
  
But...  
  
Everything I do, I do because He tells me to.  
  
~8~  
  
Because He Tells Me To  
  
~8~  
  
Today, just like yesterday, and just like tomorrow will be, the wind blew hot and dry across Carcasses, carrying with it a few traces of golden sand from the wasteland that lay just beyond the border of the town. My mother used to say that if the Plant ever stopped working, this whole town would shrivel up and die in this horrible world; then it would float over the sands like the rest of the dust and chaff that makes your eyes sore when you even try to look out into the outskirts of town. Even in the center of town, where I like to sit, it crinkles in your eyes, and makes you cry. At least... that's what I tell people sometimes.  
  
I don't really get on very well with my family. Since we're almost always working, I don't really have to see much of them anyway. I have a mother and father like most kids my age do, and an older sister too; she's named Linda. The funny thing about Linda is the way our little extra money seems to get into her hands all the time. I don't know what she does with it, and I really don't care, but dad cares. He cares so much that whever he can get his hands on her, he beats her. He beats mother too. He never lands a slap on me though, I'm too fast for him. When he's not beating Linda or mother, he's drinking our money away. Letting our hard earned double dollars seep out of him in little drops of liquor. I hate it, and I hate him too. I wish on the dust sometimes. I wish so hard just to get out of here.  
  
Today was no different. The dust is still in my eyes, and I still don't want to go home... but I have to.  
  
I pick up my feet to see the ground eddying around in little currents under the blackout of my shadow, not really paying attention to the noises around me. I wish I was like the dust. But in my family, there is no place for wishes. So I just sigh, and stamp down on the dust, trapping it the same way life stamped on me, and is grinding me into bits slowly beneath its merciless soles. I heft my weight up onto my slender legs, with a small grunt of annoyance, and drag the dust home with me, towards the outskirts of town.  
  
All the other children play around me, and the air fills with their little screeches of delight. I growl softly, scuffing my dust at them, hating them too. They who have no responsibilities. The twin suns are burning overhead, making me wince at the heat bearing down on the back of my haphazardly sewn dress, like so many other weights riding around freely on my shoulders these days. Before I know it, the familiar stench of too much drink is wafting into my nostrils, like some vile smoke that only I can see. It twines around my insides and squeezes, making me cringe and bite my lip. I haven't eaten today, that's what hurts. Not that my so-called father is abusive. Not that Linda is spoiled so rotten she decaying from the inside. Not that mother is too scared to do anything about it, and buries herself in her sewing every day. I tell myself that sometimes too.  
  
From within the house, I can hear the same screaming that I do everyday. A woman's high, helpless wail of pain and betrayal. Neighbors turn the other cheek. After a while, so do I. It's mother, that much I can tell. That man is probably home early, wondering why there isn't more money for him to spend on his toxins. Linda is sitting outside on a few boxes, airing herself out lazily, checking to make sure the bruises on her legs are covered by that new dress she bought. She looks up with a wry smirk painted as carefully on her face as she paints her lips every morning, when she sees my bare feet scuffing along.  
  
"Welcome back, brat." She breezes loftily, looking sinisterly at me from behind her long lashes. I drag a smile onto my face, so fake it doesn't even feel like a smile to me anymore.  
  
"Eyre. Not brat. My name is Eyre." I whisper as I pass her. Like always, she catches it.  
  
"Like I said. Brat." Linda smirks. I wrinkle my nose in distaste, and continue into the house. The crash of cooking ware lets me know that the row has entered the kitchen, providing me with a way to get through the house and into me and Linda's room without much hassle.  
  
Once there, I lock the door with my piece of twine, and flop down to the floor. The dust motes fly up at the wind I create and I stare longingly at them for a while. Dust is pretty much all I identify with, now. Sighing, I scoot myself forward, to look at myself in the shards of mirror tacked haphazardly onto the wall. Hardened green-brown eyes stare back at me defiantly through a curtain of fringe in the crystal; long, brown, scraggly strands of unwashed hair twined into a loose braid fall behind them. My coarse blue cotton dress is tattered a bit around the bottom, and my apron, coloured off-white from the dust, hands limply on top of that. I sigh again. Fourteen years of this.  
  
Looking away from the scene in the mirror, a special-seeming dust mote caught my eye in the window, and I peered at it for a bit. It moved downwards a bit, and then sideways, and then... upwards? I blinked in surprise, and scrambled to my feet to look more closely. It was a small, dust-coloured spider.  
  
I suppose I could always make a wish on a spider, instead. So I closed my eyes, and wished as hard as I could.  
  
I wish... that everyone would just disappear.  
  
What possessed me to wish that?  
  
"Woman!" bellows that man from the other room, muffled from behind the door, "Make me some goddamned food! Don't none of you know your place in this fucked up hell-hold of a household! You're sewing all damn day when you should be cleaning! Linda's a dirty, good for nothing tramp, and Eyre?! That stupid bitch of a little girl lives in her dreams every goddamned day!" The rest of his tirade is obscured by more pots and pans, as they clatter to the floor.  
  
Oh... that's right.  
  
I didn't feel like staying in here for one more moment, so I ran. I slammed open the door, and winced as it hit a blockage. That man's enraged yowl sent me scrambling in an undignified manner for the back door. I felt his steps shaking behind me, felt the wind behind his drunked swings, and spun into the wall with a hard thud when one of them clipped the left side of my head with a resounding smack that made my teeth rattle. I saw stars, and tasted the bittersweet tang of blood on my tongue- I must have bitten it- but ran on anyway, my breath wheezing in my chest. I saw mother in the kitchen as I darted through, sitting in the candle light, another bruise added to the mottled green and blue collection on her neck, blood spotting her cheek... and I hated him more.  
  
I wanted it all gone, I decided, as I finally made it out into the light of the setting suns, and rising moons.  
  
All of it.  
  
~8~  
  
I slept in the dunes just outside of town that night.  
  
When I woke up, it was high noon.  
  
And there was no sound at all.  
  
Just the wind  
  
The dust  
  
And me.  
  
~8~  
  
A/N: Well, I suppose we all know what happened to the town. This was based on a dream of mine, so I'm just kind of writing on a whim here. Let me know what you think, onegai?  
  
By the way, besides Mr. Millions, I'm not sure how long it'll take to get the rest of the crew involved in this; it's all going to take place through Eyre's eyes though, because I'm always wary about writing from other characters perspectives besides my own originals, until I've seen the whole series twice through, and have had little philosophical thought conversations about characters and their development with Millie-dear. =D  
  
Love and Peace!  
  
-Ivory 


	2. I - Dust Spider

^_^ Lack of disclaimer in the first chapter, and an unwillingness to be divested of all my money in an already lost lawsuit has prompted me to tell everyone who might have assumed otherwise... [*pulls out a megaphone*] I DO NOT OWN THIS SERIES, OR ANYTHING PERTAINING TO IT. Except possibly my Vashbroom. I own that. =D  
  
Oh, and //-// are flashbacks. ^_^ Just so ya' know.  
  
~8~  
  
The silence in the air was overpowering, falling like a blanket over the small town. It seemed that even the very air had no room or place anymore in the town, or the dunes around it. There was no movement. Time seemed to have ground to a halt in its tracks; it would have been like a photograph, or painting, but the dust still shifted restlessly, lending an air of surreality to the entire situation.  
  
It was to this that Eyre awoke, the double suns already risen over a horizon that seemed as far off as her own heartbeat, pounding in her ears. Wincing, the slip of a girl rose uncertainly to her feet, to survey the strange situation more closely. 'Certainly the town should be busting already,' she thought, raising a weathered and sand-encrusted hand to rake painfully through her tangled hair. It hurt, but she didn't seem to care a whit about it. Obviously confused as to the situation, she shook her head as if shaking it could bring her wits back about her, brown wisps falling messily about her face.  
  
Shaking her head for a second time to clear it slightly, Eyre began to stumble clumsily through the sand towards the outskirts of Carcasses, her bare feet sinking into the warm sand with each laboured step.  
  
When she finally made it to the compacted ground, she felt its solidity beneath her in a far off corner of her mind. A shiver ran quickly up and down along her spine, causing her shoulders to shake and her green-flecked eyes to narrow reflexively. Something was wrong, very wrong.  
  
//'I...'//  
  
Cautiously, Eyre took another step. When nothing appeared from the dust or from beneath the ground to devour her whole, and leave nothing but the silence behind, she took another. In this manner, she slowly picked her way towards her house, wondering exactly none of the pots and pans that normally were so loud in the kitchen were not being slammed to the floor in a cacophony of noise and screams.  
  
//'I wish...'//  
  
There was no noise, none at all. Not even the lazy thumping of Linda's feet against the crates just outside the front door as she dried her new- painted toes could be heard. Not even the constant grumbling and swearing of 'that man' could be heard. The girl's eyes widened slightly, helpless to understand what had happened. The double suns were high in the sky, and yet there was no commotion at all? Could they have gone already? But... to where?  
  
//'I wish... that...'//  
  
Wide eyes, soft tread, and all, Eyre moved slowly to her front door. She glanced furtively behind her before and after each step, as if expecting this to be all some sort of prank, expecting her sister and a new 'boyfriend' to pop out of nowhere, and howl in dischordant glee at the irrational, anamalistic fear they had instilled within the 'brat.' With her toe, she nudged the front door open. It creaked dauntingly, and she shrank back from the darkness within, before hesitantly peering inside.  
  
//'I wish... that everyone...'//  
  
Upon seeing none of her imaginary monsters and fiends pop up before her very eyes, she stepped within the walls. The faucet in the kitchen was running, the sound of rushing water a veritable symphony to her ears. The double suns shone through the window, illuminating patches on the floor, and Eyre smiled slightly. 'Mother must be in the kitchen,' she thought, ' 'cause we really don't have any double dollars to spend on water bills, and things like that. She wouldn't leave the faucet running.' Stepping more quickly now, the customary whisper-call of greeting bubbling up behind her lips, Eyre walked more springily to the kitchen, eyes shining.  
  
//'I wish... that everyone would...'//  
  
The cry died at her lips, crying up and blowing away in the stagnant air. The kitchen was empty, and water ran like a precious rivulet of diamond into the dish filled sink, and guzzled down the greedy drain. Wide-eyed again, she ran to the sink, peering in. This morning's dishes were still resting in the tub, the soap long gone. A sponge lay on one of the plates, as if it had just been set down and left in the middle of things.  
  
//'I wish that everyone would just...'//  
  
Now that she thought about it... It was as if everything had been put down in the middle of things. Rushing outside, her feet pounding against the wooden boards, Eyre spotted Linda's polish and brush on top of one of the customary crates. She sighed in frustration and puzzlement, casting her eyes up to the burning suns and clear blue sky. On her way back down from thought, she noticed the spider-web in her window, and walked curiously to look at it again.  
  
The spider was gone.  
  
//'disappear.'//  
  
Her eyes shot open, hands flying to her mouth in shock. She had wished, she had wished everyone gone! What had she done? Not like this, she hadn't meant this! Eyre flopped to the ground, landing in a pile of tattered blue and dust, shivering again. Her green-flecked eyes darted from one side to the other, searching for any life, any movement. Once she thought she caught a hint of a dress; only a curtain. Once a person turning a corner in the street; just an old boot. Wildly, she turned her head from side to side, her vision beginning to blur as she realized she had wished herself alone in this horrible town. Nobody would ever find her, and she'd grow old and die. Alone.  
  
What a grim visage it would have been- a diminuative, fourteen year-old figure shuffling through the dusty and deserted streets of her hometown, hot tears rubbed from her cheeks with sandy hands, eyes stinging with the self inflicted wounds as sand from her hands pushed unbidden into her eyes, starting the horrible circle again. At length, she found herself headed toward her haven, the town centre; however, something in her made her halt. It made her blink to clear her eyes and look up. At length, to pale, and hide behind a nearby building, peering around the edge. At the center of the square, a strange man stood before the monument, one finger raised to eye level; he appeared to be lazily watching something.  
  
Eyre blinked the last of the sand away and crouched low to the ground like a dog when their master's boot is raised; knowing that any attention brought to them would cause great harm indeed. The man appeared to be wearing some sort of odd white suit, the likes of which she had never seen. Tubes ran at odd intervals from it, and to it, and around it, and her eyebrows furrowed, trying to take it all in. His hair was so very light blonde, it almost looked white, and though she could only see glimpses of them, his eyes looked to be a startling and piercing blue.  
  
Suddenly, in a violent movement that made her flinch instinctively, he made his gloved hand into a vicious fist, before disdainfully throwing something onto the ground before the monument. He stared down for a moment, as if contemplating something, and then walked away purposefully, with great strides. Still shivering, Eyre looked after him for what seemed like forever, until she was sure he was gone. Then, painstakingly, she got to her feet again. Moving with less purpose, and smaller strides, she timidly made her way to the monument to see what he had thrown. Before she got there, however, a flash of colour amid the drab city caught her eye. She looked up to see a word painted in red in broad strokes across the stone... it read, 'Knives,' in large menacing letters.  
  
"...Knives?" Eyre said, half to herself, and half to the monument. Her eyebrows lowered slightly in contemplation, before she gave up entirely on the subject. Scuffing her bare feet slightly in the dust, she looked down again to see what it was he had thrown.  
  
Her breath caught painfully in her throat, as a gasp squeeked out between her now tightly clenched teeth.  
  
There, lying pathetically and crushed on the ground, was the dust-spider.  
  
~8~  
  
A/N: ~*Ah ha! Someone we actually recognise makes his debut in the story! Will we ever find a plot? Will this little girl ever have relevance in the storyline? Tune in next time, to find out!  
  
~*A big 'thank-you' to those who have already given me reviews, despite the absense of anything remotely Trigun-like in the story! 3  
  
Love and Peace!  
  
-Ivory 


	3. II - Possession

I don't own Trigun [that's the stuff of wishes and dreams,] I just like donuts.  
  
Keep in mind, Eyre has never actually met Vash. ^_^; So she thinks like all those other rumour mongers.  
  
Um... //-// is still flashbacks [thouch they're not really here]  
  
And... ::-:: is telepathic speech.  
  
.  
  
~8~  
  
.  
  
The sound of the stranger's steps had long since faded into the air, leaving behind only a daunting silence; bootprints crushed into the helpless dust the only reminder of what had been. Bootprints, and a scene now etched into a young girls memory with cold precision. Eyre shuddered with sudden apprehension, as her gaze was again drawn out to the scene before her. The dust spider had begun to secrete a horrible ichor from some deep wellspring within itself, as if that which made it living was crawling slowly out of its mortal shell, to die again when the light touched it. She knelt softly beside the pathetic shell, a cloud of dust and sand billowing up about her blue-clad knees before settling back into its places. Far away, her rational mind queried her, not understanding. 'It was only a spider,' thought her rationality, 'why should it matter this much; why should it matter at all?' She didn't really know why, but it did.  
  
It didn't seem like the man had killed a simple spider; it felt to her like he had killed someone very dear to her... Like he had been the one to wipe out the town, and that her spider was the only thing left alive, except her- and now it was dead too. Sudden, irrational fear made her numb; what if he had killed everyone in the town. What if everyone was gone, not because she had wished them away, but because a stranger in a white suit came and whisked them all into nothingness.  
  
Shuddering again, she looked up from the lifeless thing to rest her eyes on the monumental scrawl in red. 'Knives...' Was that his signiature? Surely he couldn't be... on par with someone like Vash the Stampede, who destroyed towns on a whim; who obliterated the lives of helpless townspeople, and made humans tremble in fear wherever he walked?  
  
Eyre stifled a gasp, still on her knees, her eyes suddenely loosened from their grasp on the statue. What if he was Vash the Stampede! She had heard he had blonde hair, and... well, it was very light, but that could be considered blonde! He did empty out the entire town, and he had such a disrespect for life that he would crush a helpless insect when there was no need to? But why, then, would he have written 'Knives' on a statue in the town centre? Her eyes darted around, thouch her body kept stock still; her mind whirled and twirled about dizzily in similar confusion. Right hand suddenly pressed to her forehead, she leaned heavily on her left, before applying more pressure, and lavering herself up. She stumbled from her sudden force, and fell forward, hands blindly reaching out before her. Suddenly, the cool rock of the statue held her up, and she tumbled weakly against it; the full force of her situation hitting her like a sledge hammer.  
  
The dust-clad girl collapsed to the base of the monument, her knees buckling. Her family had been killed. Her sister, her mother, even that man... They were all gone. Linda would never tempt yet another innocent boy from the street with her sultry expressions and glinting nails. Her mother would no longer sew her clothing up by the candlelight, and tell her stories of the wild and wonderful adventures of the bounty hunters, who chased after an elusive sixty-million double dollar man. Even that man, her father, would never bounce her upon his knee in rare sobriety while she giggled helplessly. Her spider was gone too. And all the children. And all the children's parents. Eyre found herself choking dryly, suprised by the trails of molten heat that burned down her face. She had loved them, all of them... In her carelessness, she had wished herself out of it, and now that she was... She wasn't sure she wanted what she had thought she wanted.  
  
Oh! This was so confusing! What about that mysterious killer? Who was he? Awash with confliction emotions, her soul involved in a rending game of tug-of-war, Eyre closed her eyes; her chest was constricted from her shallow gasps of pain and grief, and it pulsed with a fury previously unknown to her. Finally, with a solid thump that she never heard, the girl curled into a fetal ball, and toppled over into the dust at the foot of the monument, now a memorial and tombstone, her hand stretched out toward the pathetic spider's corpse in a silent entreaty for safety that would never come again. Carcasses was silent again- a dead place- though the lifeless bodies that the town's name implied would never be found.  
  
Another sound occured, that would never reach the unconcious Eyre's ears. Footsteps again, slightly heavier than the first; as if the maker was carrying his sins on his shoulders for everyone to see, but only he to feel the full weight of.  
  
.  
  
~8~  
  
.  
  
::Master...::  
  
A soft voice with all the texture and feel of wet silk insinuated its way within the thoughts and memories in the back of the white-suited man's awareness. It curled around his mind like a plume of smoke, pulling his immediate attention to the speaker, before dissipating into the blankness of the air around it.  
  
With a slight smirk, Knives leant back in his chair, awaiting his report. He did not dignify his servant with an answer; he was one of them; and didn't deserve even a thought. He was interested, however, for he had sent his minion to the town on a different mission than usual. He had felt something watching him, earlier in the square; but dismissed it as little more than nothing. He had dispensed with the worthless slime within that town fully, and nothing remained. However, he had a lingering doubt. Not important enough for him to be troubled with; but important enough to send one of his belongings to check again; and report back if anything was found.  
  
Legato knew that his master was listening vaguely, but he certainly did not want to ask for any more attention, even if something interesting had been found. Which indeed was the case... if another of these unworthy beings being discovered was interesting. As his golden gaze lanced down dispassionately at the curled and fallen girl, he had thought about just dispensing with her there and then; but He had ordered him to report everything; and he did not wish to make the master angry with him... never that.  
  
::Master, there is an unconcious human girl here...:: the disembodied voice reported, a slight tone of indifferance indicating exactly what he thought of the situation. Knives' eyesbrows lowered slightly in thought; how could any filth have survived his 'attack' on the settlement? Perturbed, he settled lower in his seat, fingers falling lazily together to form a steeple, where they tapped together for a few times, before rewarding his minion's dilligence with a few syllables.  
  
::Go on.:: he abstractly thought back at the man on-scene, his thoughts suddenly occupied with scenarios of survival for the strange girl. A slight thread of astonishment laced Legato's reply, as if he was baffled that he had been spoken to.  
  
::...She is living, and appears to be around fourteen or fifteen years of age,:: the silken voice continued, still being sewn together with reverance, ::and footstep depth and direction indicates that she crouched behind a nearby building within view of the square for a short period of time, before getting up and shuffling to the center stone. There, she fell onto her knees, rested herself upon her left hand, and then forced herself up with the same hand. She then stumbled forward, pressed into the monument, and toppled over into the position that I see currently. Patches on the ground indicate that she was crying, Master.:: the capital letter was evident in the title, the whole speech presented in the air on one who fears to leave any detail, no matter how minute, out.  
  
Knives breathed out slowly, in a whoosh of air. He tapped his steepled fingers against each other once more, before lacing them together and sitting up a slight straighter. This made a little more sense; she must have been a resident, not someone from out of the area. She had been at another town? He grunted slightly in frustration, and braced one elbow against his desk, resting his chin in his open palm. Not enough information.  
  
::Where do the footsteps originate.:: He thought at his servant; it was not an inquiry, his tone provided for that, it was an order. Find out; it said.  
  
There was a moment of silence, and he could almost feel the neatly executed steps as the girl's footsteps were traced back to their origin.  
  
::They lead to a house at the edge of town, Master,:: Legato finally thought, the incense of his voice again raising a plume of smoke into the waiting air. ::And from there they lead back out into the dunes. There is a scooped out hole here, though it is partially covered over now, where she slept the last night.::  
  
A ha. Concluded the Master, silently greatful that his thoughts had been untangled. She must have lived in that house. There was something that made her leave, and sleep outside of town. She must not have awakened before his little courtesy call, and came in to town just afterwards. Suddenly, he frowned; his thoughts interrupted by that voice again, a little more hurried this time.  
  
::She has awakened, Master... should I dispose of her?:: His lips frowned for him, as his forehead was now doing.  
  
::Ye-...:: Knives cut off his thought, still mulling it over; something about this girl piqued his interest; he briefly considered asking Legato to bring her to him, for further questioning... but that wasn't enough. He thought for a few seconds more, before hitting on a use for her. A child. I can use her as a tool against my brother; bring him to me. That was a good enough excuse. ::No. I want you to bring her here, to me.:: he finalized. Surprise from his servant, but underneath it, an almost disturbing willingness to obey.  
  
::Very well, Master.:: Legato thought; and then the Master's presence was gone from his mind; no longer paying him any heed.  
  
.  
  
~8~  
  
.  
  
Eyre awoke slowly, her body feeling the presence of another before her mind registered it, and her memory pulled in a figure quickly.  
  
//that man, bent over to cuff her awake...//  
  
Danger! Every fiber in her being sang, and she sat up violently, reflexively scooting away from the presence. It wasn't her father. It was faster. An iron grip quickly closed about her throat, and she gagged for breath, her eyes opening fully, and her mind awaking to the situation. She felt her feet leave the dusty ground, and then her back was slammed roughly into the monolith in the center of the square. She choked against the merciless grip, and struggled to get free; but it would not give for anything she tried. Her eyes raised to look at her attacker, and was startled to meet piercing eyes of gold, hidden behind a screen of blue hair- he looked incredibly bored. The man was wearing a white coat as well, one shoulder adorned with spikes of iron, or some sort of black metal. Her efforts to get free redoubled and became increasingly frantic as she saw what garnished the other shoulder of his coat. A human skull.  
  
Fearfully, Eyre turned her eyes back to his, and saw them unfocus slightly, as if he were waiting for an answer. His hand tightened again on her throat, causing her to wheeze and see sparks at the edge of her vision, and then he released the added pressure on her throat suddenly. She looked at him dazedly, to see the golden eyes look decidedly confused for a few scant moments, before become apathetic again. Those eyes bored into her green- flecked ones, until she wished nothing but to shrink back into the stone behind her; and then he squeezed--...  
  
There was not even light at the edge of her vision as her breathing stopped, and she lapsed into unconciousness again; becoming only a lax burden with was carefully cradled- almost gently- in her assailant's arms. He didn't want to damage her any more, after all.  
  
She was His now.  
  
.  
  
~8~  
  
.  
  
A/N: Whoo, that was a long one! It just ran out of my fingers like a waterfall. ^_^ Or Legato's hair; whichever you prefer to envision.  
  
Again, thanks to my reviewers; and don't fret, the plot is coming! If I could, I'd give a little bit of Trigun to all of you... If I owned it, which of course I don't. ^_^ If wishes were horses, I'd probably be a hustler.  
  
Don't change that channel!  
  
Love and Peace!  
  
-Ivory 


	4. III - Complimentary

Sadly, I still don't own Trigun. Damn and blast.  
  
Oh well, there's always tomorrow!  
  
.  
  
~8~  
  
.  
  
Knives had long since given up tapping his fingers together, and was now in search of some other form of dubious entertainment. Watching the unconcious human girl was quickly losing its charm after the two hours she had occupied another chair in his 'office,' and he found himself pacing the breadth of the room impatiently. It was cripplingly boring, and he began to growl beneath his breath, wishing for everything that he could cuff the thing and wake her up. However, she looked so fragile that in doing so, he would probably kill her. So he contented himself with pulling up another chair beside hers, and scrutinizing his new thing.  
  
Just as he had suspected, she was a fragile looking specimen. She looked to be slightly younger than her actual age, and her arms were thin where they lay across her chest. Her entire figure was willowy, and her complexion was pale. Knives surmised that she would have large, and no doubt expressive, eyes as well; this made her to look like a poor waif, and he smirked. Exactly what he wanted. His human-sympathizing brother would fall for this trap like no other he had ever devised. She looked entirely helpless, and definitely not the kind of thing that his brother would want to... endanger. He couldn't keep in a slight bark of laughter, but quickly crushed the urge to continue. Instead he went back to looking at the girl.  
  
She was breathing shallowly, and seemed to bruise easily, because of her pale skin. The marks that Legato had left on her throat had bruised before his eyes an hour earlier, the blood blossoming up beneath her skin to form those lovely little patches of purple and blue that adorned her neck now. She wore a dirty, ripped, and faded blue dress, with a dusty and limp apron covering her front. He smirked to himself, and decided to play a little personality game; he didn't really care who she was, or how she acted, but sometimes it was fun to get inside their minds and predict their actions, until they couldn't hide anythng from you. His brow furrowed in thought, and he gently scratched his cheek.  
  
She... would be the kind of human who did not scream easily. She would cower, or cringe, or dodge away, or any of those soundless ways of expressing fear that humans had. Most likely she would try to shrink back into any physical object that was around, in an effort to make her already small stature smaller, and therefore less threatening, and less bothersome. Frowing, he mulled that over slightly. That meant that he would have to teach her how to scream. Silence is well enough; but in order to guarantee his brother's full attention, she would have to vocalize her fear. Like those two twits who tailed the Stampede constantly. He hummed slightly, in a better mood; he loved teaching his servants things. Especially things that caused them pain in some way, shape or form.  
  
Well... if she wouldn't scream after all that, he would have to send someone with her, to be sure that attention was guaranteed. In thought again, he shifted positions slightly, rubbing at his chin. She would... take well to orders once broken. Most likely in a listless way, or a blank way. Less sadistic, but more efficient. The kind of person who would kill herself to make sure orders got carried out. Even if he didn't specifically order her to. His mood lifted even more; that was good.  
  
With an slight moan, the girl shifted in the chair next to him, breaking his little game off abruptly. Frowning, Knives stood up, and moved his chair back, instead sitting on the corner of the desk across from her. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, and then she cringed from the lingering pain, hissing slightly between her teeth as she brought a hand to her throat, gingerly fingering the bruises. She looked to be mentally going over the situtation, before her searching eyes- ah, good, they were rather large, he had been right- found him sitting on the desk. She squeeked slightly in the back of her throat, eyes widening in sudden fear and apprehension, and she pulled back slightly into the chair, making herself look smaller. He couldn't resist a crow of laughter; he had been right again.  
  
His sudden outburst seemed to scare her even more, because her eyes widened further, and she pulled her knees to her chest protectively. Knives continued to laugh brazenly, tears almost gathering in the corners of his brilliantly blue eyes; he hadn't laughed this well in such a long time, not since he had killed that pathetic human. Then he had laughed in anticipation of his brother's expression. Now he laughed because they were animals. Humans were animals, and base. Even though their minds professed to be brilliant, and they told themselves they were superior to all things; he could read them as easily as a book, even in their sleep. This was hysterically funny to him, and he would have continued his tirade; however, he didn't wish to scare his new toy to death. He blinked down at her, after his giggles died out, and raised a hand in slight greeting, sliding off the desk.  
  
"Welcome back to the world of the aware, little one." He intoned, his voice a surprisingly melodic tenor. Still looking down at her, he spread his hands wide in an attempt to put her at ease. It seemed to be a gesture that implied that there was no danger from the one who made it, and she relaxed slightly. Not enough for even her herself to notice; but the little things caught his eye. Her jaw unclenched, and her muscles relaxed slightly. From the slight movement of her dress and apron over her chest, he was able to discern that her heartbeat had slowed minutely, as well as her breathing- it had resumed its normal pace. Knives almost giggled again. She would be a fun project.  
  
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~8~  
  
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Since she had awakened in this strange place, Eyre had been on her guard. For all she knew, she could be dead; crushed by that unfeeling man with the hypnotic hawk's eyes. However, as she made the customary sweep of her wherabouts, she knew that she was living... she just didn't know how long she would stay that way; for there, on the desk, was that same man who had been there at the town. Who she surmised had killed everyone. She let out a strangled cry, and shrunk backwards reflexively. Then he had begun to laugh.  
  
She shivered. Never had she heard anything so cold; so maniacal. It almost seemed as if she were trapped in a large room with a truly insane man. His shocking eyes were stretched wide, his pupils contracted into tiny pinpoints of black in an expansive ocean of bright blue. His head tilted back slightly mouth stretched somewhere inbetween a smirk and a feral grin. His laughter was not high pitched, but not low either, and she could only stare wide-eyed at the scene as he trailed off into equally manic giggling, fingers twitching spasmodically into the wood of the desk. With another shudder, she saw it give way slightly under his grasping hands, and realized exactly how strong he must be, to make indents in wood only when seized by a violent fit of laughter.  
  
Just as soon as he had started, he stopped, and began to peer down at her, with those same piercing eyes; the pupils returning to normal in an almost eerie widening. He must have seen that she was still tensed up, her muscles beginning to ache terribly from holding themselves in their most contracted state from a prolonged amount of time, and spread his hands wide, in a generally accepted gesture that implied he was no threat to her existance, or even her conciousness. She relaxed minutely, still slightly disturbed by all of these happenings, but he seemed to be satistfied with it.  
  
"Welcome back to the world of the aware, little one." He had said, arms still spread. She started slightly at the sound of his voice, so different from the terrible laughing. It was soft in and of itself, but with razor blades lurking beneath it. Should he change his tone from one meant to soothe to one meant to cut or wound, they would appear. Though she knew of the danger carefully covered by his calming tone, she felt her nerves calm slightly; as if allowing her to be placated by the carefully constructed facade of his voice. One phrase, and information coursed through her mind. She was well to be afeared of this man; he weilded great power and control. Eyre had long since learned, living in the house with that man, that when he was openly angry she didn't have as much to fear from him as when he spoke in calm and soothing tones. That was when he was in control of everything, and she had no way to escape the beating he had planned for her. Her captor was equally so. She knew now, that if he could afford to be courteous to her... she had no way out. Her thoughts were broken like glass as the man before her cleared his throat slightly.  
  
He was staring at her again, with an air of slight distaste, as if he was rolling around a useless question in his mouth, and he didn't exactly like the taste of it.  
  
"What... is your name." He finally said. Said, not asked. Eyre realized that he didn't seem like the type of person who would ask things. Questions can be brushed off or refused. This was an order; the kind that you have to answer, even though she didn't want to. A thousand things whirled through her mind- should she give him a false name? No... with those piercing eyes it seemed as if he could see straight through her... plus, she was a terrible liar; her hands always shook, and her face flushed slightly when she did. There were so many things she wanted to call him; murderer, fiend, kidnapper, psychopath... but she didn't think he would take that well, and she really didn't want to end up dead. So she spoke up, proud that her voice didn't quaver as much as she thought it would.  
  
"...Eyre," she half whispered, eyes downcast. As an afterthought, she raised her head defiantly, and forced her quaking body to meet her demands. She wrapped herself with an iron will born of desperation and made herself lift her eyes to meet with his, though she almost winced with the intensity of the gaze; her green-flecked eyes instantly losing the power struggle. "it's Eyre." He looked slightly pleased with himself for establishing concrete superiority so early, and smirked slightly. 'Well... she has some backbone to her after all,' he thought to himself, mulling over the possible ways to tell her her situation. Finally, he settled on the direct approach.  
  
"Very well then, Eyre," he began, testing her name experimentally. He found it, if not to his liking, well enough to use. "You are now under my jurisdiction. Essentially," he paused slightly for emphasis, "you are now my possession." She gawked slightly, her mouth falling open; she hadn't expected this, no not at all. He laughed a short bark at her surprised expression, causing her to twitch slightly, and look away, fuming. How dare he treat her, another human being, as a belonging? She opened her mouth, eyes glinting with sharp anger, vocalizing her thoughts before she had time to think about it.  
  
"H-how dare you suddenly grab me and yank me into unwilling servitude!" Eyre snapped, the green in her eyes glowing with an quick burning fury. He regarded her with nothing short of amusement, and before she knew it, had pulled a hand back and slapped her deftly across the face, with such force that it sent her head snapping to the side, her body following as she collapsed against the arm of the chair, a large bruise already beginning to blossom up underneath her pale skin. She coughed slightly, eyes tearing from the sting of being hit, the shock of being hit that hard in such an off-hand manner, and the disbelief that he was now still laughing at her.  
  
"Ah, you creatures never ceace to amuse me," He chuckled out, again leaning against the corner of the desk, his eyes filled with disdainful mirth. Then, just as quickly as he had hit her, he was on his feet again, pulling her up so quickly as to cause her to cry out in pain, wincing as her arm was almost yanked from its resting place. His eyebrows raised slightly. "Why, you have a lovely scream, little one." She glared at him, a mixture of pain, fear, anger, and loathing all cooked up into the most delicious expression he had seen in quite a while. He chuckled again, and then became quite still, his eyes hardening again.  
  
"My name, little one, is Knives," he began, silently relishing the intensifying of her expression, the recognition that flooded her eyes and caused her mouth to open slightly in shock. The monument... that was him... he wrote it... he killed them. Now she knew. She opened her mouth to speak again.  
  
"It was you-" she began, and then cringed backwards as best as she could as he shut her up with a single hard glare, and the telltale movement of his hand upwards. Watching his hand, she realized that he would hit her again if she spoke. And again after that if she spoke... so she remained silent, only watching him with her accusing eyes.  
  
"You, little one, will from now on call me Master." he finished, triumphantly. Her lips curled in a silent snarl, but her head hung low on her neck. He waited for an affirmation. It seemed that they waited for hours, Eyre dangling from his hand like a sullen puppet, whose strings were suddenly all too constricting. Finally a whisper issued from her lips.  
  
"Yes..." she said, her voice a quiet breath of air, as if the last emission of breath from the lips of a dead man, "Master."  
  
He grinned with a sudden glee at hearing her say it. He had successfully broken another one, and though he was sure it would take a long time for the anger to fade from the hellion's eyes of green and brown, he had forever.  
  
"Good," he began, releasing her wrist from his grip, only to grab ahold of it again. She still looked horrible, a bruise on her cheek, livid bruises on her throat, her hair in tangles and her dress in tatters. She would not do for his servant. "Now. You look terrible. Go outside. Find the man who brought you in earlier. He will take you to somewhere that you can be cleaned up." her nose twitched slightly.  
  
"Yes, Master." she sneered, making a mockery of the simple servile words. Knives grit his teeth, as she turned her purposefully blank gaze on him. It made him ill, to see perverse nothing where her sparkle had been. Suddenly, he didn't wish to see those eyes anymore, let alone her. He barked a simple order.  
  
"Get out. Now." the Master snarled viciously, before stalking back to his desk. There was nothing but silence from his new aquisition, and he went to sit petulantly at his desk, glowering at the wooden finish on it as he heard the door slam behind her.  
  
He ground his teeth together in abject anger, knowing that what he had thought to be easy was going to present more of a challenge than he had previously thought. In his twisted annoyance, he decided not to go as easy on her has he would have in the beginning...  
  
She had a wonderful scream.  
  
Maybe he would start from there.  
  
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~8~  
  
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A/N: Eee, another one done! This story is starting to write itself, I think. I'm not sure whether or not Knives was in character throughout this chapter, so do me a big big favour and tell me? Pretty please with Vash on top? ...Ooh. ^_^; That's an impure thought right there.  
  
Here's a big thankoo to all my faithful reviewers, who are starting to look suspiciously like K-Chan, Miss Ericks, and Aya. XD Yay!  
  
I'll have to pay you all back -somehow-  
  
Love and Peace!  
  
-Ivory 


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